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Happiness exists and has a first and last name: strawberry ice cream.

The nice gentleman got not just one but two tubs. Now I’m fully committed to the fact that I’ll eat one all by myself. Bia usually likes to share both the ice cream and the guilt for giving in to temptation, but today, I’m going to go crazy and eat the whole thing.

I also stayed a little longer there, buying some things for breakfast because, poor thing, Dad doesn’t have time for anything else these days. He’s been so tired I’m afraid he’ll end up getting sick, too.

I take a turn to get to my parent’s house, and a small animal, which I believe to be a skunk, chooses to cross the road at that exact moment, almost giving me a heart attack. I stomp on the brakes and watch it until I’m sure the bastard reaches the other side, taking its time as if it doesn’t have any worries in life, while my soul, on the other hand, has just enough time to come back to my body.

I go back to driving and listen to the radio station talking about the flu. Jesus, I’m starting to freak out. I cannot think of myself alone but of those who are elderly.

With the amount of travel I do, I’m certain I’ll end up getting it. And if that’s the case, I won’t even be able to see Mom. Her immune system is very fragile due to her cancer treatment, so she can’t even think about exposing herself to something like that.

Bia went so far as to say she believes that, if the situation worsens, very soon they will order a country-wide lockdown and even close the borders.

It sounds like something out of a science fiction story, and I hope it’s all just scaremongering. I can’t afford to stop working. My family, especially my mother’s health, depends on me.

There are only two more minutes before I get home. The night is dark; there’s not a single star in the sky, so when I see a flash, I find it strange.

First, I think it’s fireworks—but it doesn’t make any sense; we’re far from the Fourth of July.

The closer I get to it, the stronger the uneasiness that spreads through me. When I finally get closer, I scream in horror.

My parents’ house is on fire.

I leave everything behind in the car, and as I run, I call 911. “My parents’ house is on fire. My mother has cancer; please send someone!”

“Ma’am, what’s your name?”

“ Turner. Did you hear what I said? My parents’ house is on fire!”

“Please calm down.”

“The hell I’m going to calm down! The address is 1014 Peanut Drive.”

I drop my phone on the floor and run to the door just as it opens, and my Dad comes out with Mom in his arms. The nurse comes screaming right behind him.

Thank God!

But then I remember Bia.

“Where is Bia, Dad?”

“I don’t know if she managed to get out, baby.”

“Oh my God, no!”

I run inside but can’t get too close to the room Bia is staying in. The heat is unbearable, and I start to feel short of breath.

“Bia!”

“? ”

“Come on, I’m here!”

“I won’t make it, !”

“For God’s sake, don’t say that. Of course, you will!”

“Get out of the house, . Take cover!”

“No. I won’t leave without you. No way I am leaving without you!”

“I locked him in, . I managed to lock the bastard inside the room.”

“Who? Who are you talking about?”

“Mike. He was the one who set the house on fire. He thought I was you.”

I hear the fire department sirens in the distance but don’t know if they’ll make it in time. I need to save my friend.

I grab a blanket from the only chair that isn’t on fire yet, and like I saw in a movie once, I cross to where she is.

“You’re crazy, ! Go away! We’ll both die! Save yourself!”

“Not without you.”

I feel the heat of the fire on my legs but force myself to keep going until her hand takes mine.

We are both crying.

“You are crazy, ! Why are you doing this?”

“I would never leave you.”

We start to make our way to the exit, and even though I am dizzy, in pain, and out of breath, I can already see people outside and firemen coming in. But then, like in a nightmare, a heavy beam falls in front of us, and everything turns red. The world is a fireball.

Screams, crying, and sirens confirm I’m still alive. My eyelids flutter as I try to open my eyes, but it’s like they’re glued together. My legs burn.

Voices come and go. Somehow, I know I’m outside.

I never liked open spaces. It’s not agoraphobia, but I prefer places where I feel protected.

They’re moving me, and there’s an oxygen mask over my face .

I try to recall what happened, but it’s all very confusing.

“She’s responding!” a voice announces next to me.

“Great! She’s too pretty to die young.”

“You’re kidding, right? Pretty? The woman is beautiful! This is Turner, the top model!”

I feel a hand on my face, pushing back my hair.

“Jesus, it’s really her! I didn’t recognize her because of the smoke. She is very lucky that her face wasn’t damaged. It would have been a crime if she hadn’t managed to escape.”

At the mention of the word fire , my memory starts to come back.

The fire, my parents. Bia telling me that Mike did it.

Where is my family? Nurse Ann? My friend?

I remember going into the house to try to save her and the beam falling down in front of us. Then, before my vision turned black, the terrified look on the face of the woman who has become one of my cornerstones.

If everyone leaves me, it will be my fault. And as punishment, I will be alone forever.